


Infinity

by thesadchicken



Series: Where the lost get found [1]
Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pre-Movie, and Post-Movie, but also during the movie, give Charity more love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: However big, however small, she's now part of it all...Little bits and pieces of Charity and P.T.'s life together as partners, as lovers, and as best friends.Or the story of how two dreamers decided to run away to a world that they designed.





	1. Chapter 1

He comes home late after work, but she hasn’t been sleeping. He crawls into bed and presses his cold body against hers. He smells of the night – of streetlights and mildew and the distant clatter of plates in a shabby restaurant. In the darkness of their tiny bedroom, Charity smiles to herself. With him, she can taste colors and see scents and hold words in the palm of her hand. Phin has always managed to light that spark in her. She can picture him walking home – _running_ home, back to her, to their girls, to the safety and wonder of their home.

Charity closes her eyes and sighs contentedly. Phin stirs, very gently folding his arm around her waist. He thinks she’s asleep, and she wants to savor this moment a bit longer. So she says nothing as he buries his nose in her hair. His breath tickles the back of her neck. She can barely hide all the joy swelling up in her chest, almost seeping out of her. And maybe he notices the way her breathing goes uneven, or the way her heart thumps against him, because he presses his open palm into hers and whispers, “you awake?”

Charity takes his hand and squeezes it. “Yes,” she whispers back, smiling in the dark.

Phin draws a trail of soft kisses onto her neck – they leave goosebumps in their wake. Charity chuckles quietly. She can feel him smiling against her skin… that charming half-smile of his. And she needs to see it, needs to hold him and run her fingers through his hair. She twists around in bed until they’re face to face. The dim moonlight trickling through the window is barely enough for her to see him, but she paints his handsome features onto the shadows from memory.

And suddenly the night is filled with music; an old tune they’ve been singing to each other for so long, but it somehow still sounds new.

Phin closes his eyes. Charity kisses him. It’s slow at first, almost tentative – familiar but exhilarating. Tremors run down her spine as she kisses him again. And again. He smiles against her lips. A joy so grand it’s impossible to suppress. Charity brings her hands up to cup his face.

“You’re beautiful,” he sighs, although his eyes are still closed.

Charity draws tiny circles on his cheek with her thumb. Their dark bedroom is gleaming with a thousand different colors. A breeze slips through the window and shakes the curtains, making the shadows dance and the colors swirl. Charity and Phin float above the sheets, above the building, above the world.

Morning will come and they will have things to do and places to go. But Phin’s kisses taste like dreams, and as long as he comes back home to her every evening, Charity knows the world will always be a magical place.

He pulls her closer. She doesn’t feel like dancing; no, tonight, she just wants to hold him. He understands, he’s always understood her silent words.

And so they stay there, holding each other, whispering through the music, laughing until dawn splashes the walls with purple and blue. It’s an enchantment like none other – Charity and Phin and their perfect happiness, and then a million dreams that still keep them awake.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back.


	2. Chapter 2

Charity Barnum is walking back home, arms full of groceries, when she hears the neighbors’ wives giggling to each other. She looks up and sees them – Mrs. Shackman, Mrs. Williams and Miss Davis, all three of them perched on their little apartment balconies. They’re gossiping as usual, peering at each other and at the people on the streets.

Charity shakes her head. She smiles to herself as she pushes the main building’s door open with her foot. They ladies are friendly, but she would hardly call them friends. She isn’t really one to gossip – when she has free time, she likes spending it playing with the girls, or painting with the old brush and watercolors Phin bought her as a wedding present.

She’s just about to let the door close behind her when she hears the three women giggling a familiar name. She blocks the door again with her foot and listens carefully.

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Williams coos, “I must agree with Susie on this: Mr. Barnum is a real Adonis!”

“A heartthrob,” Miss Davis says, sighing dreamily.

“Now, now,” Mrs. Shackman admonishes them, “He’s a happily married man.”

“You’re a fine one to talk, Gertrude,” Mrs. Williams laughs, “I’ve seen you at your balcony, watching him walk away.”

Charity bites her lower lip to suppress a chuckle. It’s all very odd, standing in the doorway, listening to these women lust after her husband. She doesn’t try to deny the pride blooming in her chest. Her Phin is a very attractive man indeed. And instead of sparking her jealousy, the three women’s prattling makes her long for him.

She lets the door close with an intentionally loud _bang_ , and she smiles as she hears the women scatter in a frenzy, afraid their gossip might have reached malevolent ears. She makes her way upstairs, feeling quite pleased with herself. Once in the kitchen, she drops the groceries on the table and checks on Helen and Caroline. They’re both playing in their room, and Miss Lizzy Miller is sitting on the bed, watching them. Lizzy is a sweet young lady, barely twenty years old, and every once in a while she looks after the girls when Charity needs to go out. In exchange, Phineas helps her with her endless search for a respectable job.

Charity admires Lizzy. An independent woman living alone, in times like these… It’s what Charity would’ve done, had Phin not come along. And Miss Miller seems to enjoy her life the way it is. She’s a strong girl, with dreams and ambitions. She would never give in to the pressure of finding an old, wealthy husband and settling for a boring, passionless marriage of convenience.

“Oh, Mrs. Barnum,” the girl smiles and stands up as she spots Charity leaning against the wall.

“Hello, Lizzy,” Charity smiles back, “I take it everything went well?”

Miss Miller looks back at the girls, still playing in the corner. “Your daughters are angels,” she says.

“I’m glad they behaved themselves,” Charity laughs.

As much as she loves Lizzy, right now she wishes she had the house all to herself. At least until Phin gets home.

“I hope I’m not asking too much, but… could you take the girls out for a walk?” she asks Miss Miller, “I still have some cleaning to do, and it would be easier for me if the house were empty.”

Miss Miller shrugs. “Oh no, it’s no problem at all. I want to go to the bookshop myself – you know the one on Bowery?”

Charity’s eyes soften. She remembers her own passion for books, especially as a girl. And yet… her favorite stories were always the ones Phin invented in his letters.

“Thank you so much,” Charity says, reaching out and squeezing Lizzy’s hand.

“No need, Mrs. Barnum,” the girl shrugs again with youthful brazenness, and suddenly a thought crosses Charity’s mind.

“Tell me, Lizzy,” she starts, scratching the back of her neck, “I was wondering… do you ever hear the neighbors talking about Phineas?”

Lizzy seems surprised by the question. “Mr. Barnum? Um, yes, sometimes, I guess.”

Charity tries very hard not to smile. “Mm-hm. Do they say anything in particular?”

“Well,” the girl hesitates, “they do mention how… well, they do think he’s, you know, somewhat odd. But the ladies, they –”

Charity can’t hold back the laughter that escapes her lips. “I think I understand.”

Lizzy’s cheeks go crimson. “I mean, he really is a very good-looking gentleman, if I may say so.”

It’s impossible to stop laughing, so Charity doesn’t stop, and Lizzy seems relieved – she even looks a bit proud of herself. “Thank you for being honest,” Charity chuckles, “You know, I can’t really blame them – the ladies downstairs, I mean.”

“Well… I’ll keep the girls out a bit longer than usual, then,” Lizzy winks, before calling Helen and Caroline over.

It’s Charity’s turn to blush. “Lizzy!” she scolds the girl – who only smiles knowingly in response.

~

When Phin comes home, he falls into his wife’s arms. She holds him, and in the warmth of their home they share their secrets. She tells him about her day, and he tells her about his. In between kisses, she mentions the neighbors’ wives. It embarrasses him, and she loves the way he bites the insides of his cheeks. She whispers that she’s been longing for him all day. He moans her name. They spend the evening rolling around in bed, on the kitchen table and even on the floor.

He loves her with a passion that makes the walls shake. She feels as if she’s only ever seen his eyes; only ever felt his skin against hers and his words whispered against her mouth.  

“I love you,” he pleads, over and over, like a prayer.

He is sometimes strong and sometimes fragile, lifting her up and holding her down, his body warm against hers. He’s panting, always in motion, always loving her harder, faster, more, _more more_ …

And she says it back, over and over, like a prayer, “I love you.”


	3. Snowing over New York City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is some sort of flash-back: it takes place after Charity and P.T. start living together, but before they have children. It's also written from P.T.'s POV (kinda?)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it all the same.

It’s snowing over New York City.

P.T. draws tiny circles onto Charity’s wrist. She turns towards him and her hair brushes his cheek. She smells like warmth and love and home. P.T. smiles at her, and she smiles back.

“The sun won’t set for another hour or so,” he whispers, as if he’s afraid he’ll break the moment if he speaks too loudly.

“And even after that it won’t be freezing cold until after eight,” she answers with equal gentleness.

They share a knowing look. Their eyes are full of laughter, and as they push themselves off the bed, they both glance out the window. Snow, white and bright and everywhere – and it’s waiting for them. They get dressed quickly and they run down the stairs.

And then they’re outside, in the shimmering streets, and a mischievous wind pecks at their noses and cheeks. P.T. turns towards Charity and offers his hand; she takes it gladly, eyes shining in the late afternoon light. He can’t take his eyes off her. Snowflakes cling to her golden hair and form a halo over her head. She forgot to wear her hat, but she’s wearing her gloves – the little red ones he tried knitting for her last year. They’re uneven and patchy, but she likes them; she says they keep her warm all the same. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are colored pink by the cold. She’s lovely.

“You’re lovely,” he says breathlessly.

Charity’s gloves cup his cheeks and her lips press against his mouth. “So are you,” she smiles into the kiss.

P.T. closes his eyes for a moment, and he knows that Charity does as well. They lose themselves in the sweet swirling winter air, fingers intertwined and lips moving against each other.

The kiss ends when they’re both panting. They only smile at each other, and then he pulls her along as he runs through the snowy streets.

Winter is as good a time to dance as any. Up and down and over a thousand different rooftops they twirl, catching the sunset in the palm of their hands, balancing the moonlight on the tips of their gloved fingers. Under the pink clouds they laugh and under the starry sky they dream.

P.T. lets himself fall into a snowy hill and starts making snow angels. Charity watches him with a fondness that disarms him, and suddenly he sits up and looks at her.

“What’s wrong?” she frowns.

But he’s speechless. She stole his words and gobbled them up, and then she hid them in her eyes to tease him. He loves it when she teases him.

“Nothing,” he manages, and when her eyes widen, a few more words spill out, so he continues, “Nothing, it’s just that I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Charity sits down beside him in the snow. “Me too,” she says, winking at him, like they’re sharing a secret.

P.T. leans over the tiny space between them and starts drawing things on the snow with his finger. Charity tilts her head to the side, trying to make out the shapes as he’s drawing them. There’s an elephant, a lion, a huge dome-shaped building and a couple flying about in the air.

“Who are those?” Charity asks.

P.T. grins. “Guess,” he replies, as he pokes a few stars above the people’s heads.

Charity chuckles. She pulls the glove off her right hand with her teeth and slides her index finger across the snow. When she’s done, a heart is encircling the couple that P.T. drew.

That night, P.T. and Charity go home well after eight. They spend the evening dancing and singing and laughing like children as they wait with their mouths open wide for snowflakes to land on their tongues. They both knew it a long time ago: they’ll never grow up, as long as they’re together. With childlike joy in their hearts they kiss again and again, and they promise perfect happiness like this, always.

It’s snowing over New York City. And with snow come warmth and love and home.


	4. Chapter 3

Caroline and Helen are dancing, their little shoes tapping against the floor, crushing peanut shells and popcorn as they twirl. Charity watches them and claps along – her heart is thumping in her chest with the adrenaline of the moment, and she can’t stop smiling. The glee in her little girls’ eyes leaves her breathless with silent joy. She looks up at the stage, at the performers, at the colors and lights. It looks like a dream.

And like most of Charity’s dreams, Phin is in the center of it all. He lifts his arms up and throws his head back, and fire crackles behind him as a juggler plays his dangerous game. High above, Anne and W.D. Wheeler are swinging from rope to rope with graceful nonchalance. On the right, Lettie Lutz is singing a catchy tune. Confetti rains on the audience as they cheer. Every adult and child dances along to the song of the Circus King.

It’s the greatest show on Earth.

Charity wants to take in every detail. Every paint-splattered sliver of light seems to carry a secret song. They whisper to her; the lights, the colors, the sparkling smiles. They call her, they pull her in, they steal what’s left of her mind. It truly feels like coming alive.

When they leave the building that night, the girls can hardly stop giggling with excitement. Phin is still wearing his bright red suit and as he gently slips his arm around Charity’s waist he breathes a sigh of contentment. She places her hand on his chest and feels his heart beating wildly against her palm. He’s made for this – for the show, for the glitter, for the magic.

“That was amazing, Phin,” she says.

He looks at her, beaming with pride. “You really like it?”

He knows the answer, but she says it anyway, “Yes!”

It makes him so incredibly happy. Grabbing his top hat and pulling it off his head, he does a little pirouette that ends with a deep bow. Helen and Caroline laugh, and Charity claps, and people in the street are staring at them.

Phin’s smile feels like sunlight on Charity’s skin. She reaches out and holds his hand in hers. Laughing, he kisses her on the cheek and plants his hat on the top of her head. This makes the girls cheer. Charity looks at her reflection in a nearby shop window: barely visible in the dim light of a lamppost, there she is, flushed and disheveled and beautiful, Phin’s hat slipping onto her forehead. She likes the woman she sees; the woman she is, laughing with her husband and children, letting life bring her all the wonders she dreamed of as a girl.

She looks back at ‘Barnum’s Circus’. Phin slips his arm around her waist again and looks in the same direction.

“It’s a wondrous place,” Charity whispers to him.

“Yes, it is,” he nods.

If only his brow doesn’t furrow, ever so slightly, as his eyes get lost in the distant mist.


End file.
